


Wordless

by imaginary_golux



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 20:13:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Norrington cannot ask for what he wants.  Written for Porn Battle X.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wordless

Jack licks the salty taste of beer from Norrington's lips, savoring it. Norrington tangles his hands in Jack's beaded hair and kisses him harshly, clearly not in the mood for foreplay. That's fine with Jack - sometimes you just need a good fuck. He tumbles Norrington backwards onto the grimy bed in the rented room, grinning at the Commodore's grunt of surprise, and begins undoing the dratted buttons on the damned uniform the man insists on wearing.

Norrington swears softly and yanks Jack's shirt open, hands hot and hard and eager against Jack's chest, tweaking his nipples with surprising skill, and Jack bites back a moan and finishes opening the Commodore's trousers, reaching in to find the man has not bothered with pants, and grinning wider as Norrington's erection springs free. He'd normally make some sort of jest about Norrington's having gone without smallclothes, but Norrington makes a hoarse, desperate noise and pulls Jack's head down, and Jack's far too busy sucking cock to make jokes.

He's good at this, Jack is - he knows it, too - far too much practice in his youth, though he's never told Norrington where he learned. Norrington's never asked; he doesn't want to know. He's willing to benefit, though: he laces his hands firmly into Jack's hair and hangs on as Jack teases him with tongue and teeth and unexpected suction, until Norrington is panting through his teeth and occasionally muttering soft, coarse oaths that a proper Commodore really shouldn't know. Sometimes Jack draws this out for ages, until Norrington is practically begging for him to finish it, but tonight there's an urgency to Norrington that makes Jack forgo the torment, giving Norrington only a few minutes of calculated teasing before he opens his throat and swallows the other man down. Norrington can never last when Jack does this: tonight he shouts hoarsely, muffling the cry by biting down on his own arm at the last second, and comes in violent spurts down Jack's throat. Jack pulls back when Norrington is spent, and looks up at him curiously.

Norrington lies limply for a minute, hissing through his teeth, then half sits up and fumbles with his trousers, pushing them down and off, pulling a little jar of what is probably whale oil from a trouser pocket and holding it out wordlessly. He can never ask for this, Jack knows; even when they were first learning each other's preferences, Norrington could never voice this most despised of desires. Jack's a pirate: he has no trouble saying, "Norrington, mate, fancy a bit of a fuck?" or even, "Hallo, Norrington, care to bugger me?" but Norrington is a Commodore, and the implicit surrender in this act is one he cannot speak.

So Jack doesn't make him say it, just takes the oil as wordlessly as Norrington offers it, slicks his fingers and his cock - and when did Norrington get Jack's breeches open anyhow? - and, when Norrington has lain back down and spread his legs, slides two oily fingers between and back and _in_ , and Norrington swears and spreads his legs a little farther, and screws his eyes shut. Jack stretches him as much as he can bear - he is almost painfully aroused, now, and in any case Norrington seems to like it better a little rough, not enough to injure but enough to burn a bit, while Jack himself likes it better when he's as slick as a ten-dollar whore and everything feels like he's mired in rum, drunk and easy. When both he and Norrington are ready, or as ready as they'll get, he shuffles forwards between the other man's legs, lines himself up, pushes in slow and steady and relentless, as Norrington moans and clenches at the sheets and finally hisses, "Yesssss..."

Jack waits for Norrington to relax around him, waits until the other man is thrusting his own hips up in little, abortive movements, begging with his body for Jack to get on with it already, before he begins to move. He's good at this, too; it's not much different from fucking a woman, and he's done that a lot, though not as much as he'd like people to believe, and in any case he's done this with Norrington often enough to know what pleases the other man, and so his first long, slow, tortorous stroke draws a low, pleading moan from Norrington, and his second stroke mirrors the first. Only when Norrington is blind and deaf and mad with pleasure, when he cannot take another moment of sweet torture, does Jack begin to move faster, thrusting harder, taking his own pleasure in the other man's body. Norrington comes a second time before Jack himself finishes; the convulsions of the other man's body bring Jack over the edge. He collapses atop Norrington, not worried about crushing him, and they lie there for a while, not speaking or moving, until the mess between them becomes too unpleasant to bear.

They stand and clean themselves, still silent. Norrington sets his uniform to rights, settles his prim wig atop his head, becomes again the perfect, stainless Commodore. Jack, disreputable as ever, grins at his lover. "You do know this is illegal, right?"

Norrington grimaces, but it is half a smile. "I know, you rogue," he says, and kisses Jack goodbye.


End file.
